Maple Candy
by Silent Nacht
Summary: In which Prussia and Canada learn to fade to black, and things are not quite as sweet as they could be. Canada/Prussia. Yes.


Notes/Details: I think this is going to be the kind of story I regret posting as soon as I do. Both of them are so out of character. But I haven't written anything even slightly worth posting in so long that guilt overtook me. Hopefully this makes someone happy somewhere? Anyway, on a personal note, I am not dead just rather busy with a lot of real life drama. See profile for disclaimer. And just, thanks so much for reading my stories, everyone. It's so much of a pick-me-up to read your reviews, or just see that you've added me to your favourites. And I've really been in need of pick-me-ups lately.

* * *

Maple Candy:

In which Canada and Prussia do not have sex. No really. They don't.

* * *

"It would be better –-" His throat seems to stick at that but –-

He _is_ actually trying to keep his _tone_ on the right side of polite, and the way Prussia's laughter _thrums_ against his sternum, and the hot burn and sharp chill of his tongue leaving trails of saliva along Canada's neck is making that difficult.

If not _impossible_, but he still manages to continue after a moment, "–- inside, out of the cold."

"'S not _that_ cold."

His teeth are scraping against Canada's throat in little, intricate patterns like flakes of snow, and that's almost enough to distract him from Prussia's denial, almost –-

"Don't be a pussy."

But not quite.

He pushes Prussia away from his neck. Just enough so that their breath clouds together where they stand.

Prussia's cheeks are red, and the colour of his lips is raw from the warmth of Canada's skin.

He doesn't roll his eyes, but really, it's a near thing. His tone is still cross when he snaps, "I'd rather be that than telling the kind of lie that could get myself _hurt_," and he moves, "Prussia," stepping away but –-

–- but Prussia _yanks_ the cords of his coat and growls, "Who's _lying_?"

Canada frowns.

"_You_ are."

He punctuates that with a prod to Prussia's chest, and then –- before Prussia catches wise or he chickens out –- Canada grabs Prussia's wrist, and sucks the first two of his fingers into his mouth.

Prussia bites back a yelp.

His hand wrenches against Canada's teeth, jarring his jaw, and then he's cradling his hand and swearing, "Fuck, _fuck_."

"I _said_ it was too cold."

"Fuck _you_."

"I'm _sorry_," and Canada's stomach flip-flops a little when he knows he doesn't mean that as much as he should, but Prussia was being _stupid_, and –-

–- and he's always bitching at him to be less passive.

He blushes, the heat making his nose feel like running, but he ignores that and reaches for Prussia's hand.

Prussia glares, and skitters out of the way.

"Here, come on, _please_?" He tugs off his gloves, and shoves them into a pocket. "It's just that you obviously weren't going to listen to me, and –-"

He starts in surprise when Prussia's reach toward him. He's still glaring when he says, "Didn't think you were that much of a _bitch_, Canada."

His lips curl up a bit in a smile, and he reaches out, gently cupping Prussia's hands in his own, passing on the warmth slowly, watching the skin flush. He speaks only after a while, "It's not bad if you're patient. It's just the eh –- the sudden changes that hurt."

"Ain't it always," and Prussia's laugh is strangled, but it's there.

He lets Canada continue warming his hands only until the silence spreads itself thin, then he's pulling away, shaking his hands out and curling them into fists across his chest, "Must have drugged me with that syrup of yours. The awesome Prussia never would have let his guard down otherwise!"

His expression is so manic, so forced, that Canada struggles against the laughter bubbling up in his chest, and it makes it even worse that said laughter is jumbled up by a thousand other things, the most prominent of which is Prussia's tongue –- the feeling of it, the taste of it against his own.

Prussia fixes him in his gaze, and Canada struggles not to blush again. Instead –-

Instead, he licks his chapped lips, and somehow manages to say, "House is, um, _my_ house is just around the corner. You could, well, not, not _pay me back_, but –-"

Prussia's stare is turning speculative, intrigued.

His own gaze flickers, somehow traps itself around Prussia's left knee, and his face heats tenfold as he finishes on a quip, "–- but it'd, it'd really be a shame if I didn't show you _all_ the uses of maple syrup, eh?"

* * *

End.

* * *

End Notes: Please, um. Please review? I don't even know, guys.


End file.
